


Stranded at Christmas

by doctorkilljoy



Series: Christmas Peterick [2]
Category: Bandom, Fall Out Boy
Genre: Christmas Fluff, Domestic Fluff, M/M, Not Beta Read
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-22
Updated: 2018-12-22
Packaged: 2019-09-24 14:45:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,914
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17102564
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doctorkilljoy/pseuds/doctorkilljoy
Summary: After being stranded in Phoenix for Christmas, Pete finds a way to make it up to Patrick.





	Stranded at Christmas

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! This fic was inspired by my day at the Musical Instrument Museum. I know how much of a nerd Patrick is and it seems like the kind of place he'd love. If you'd like to learn more and go on a virtual tour of the exhibits, you can do so [here](https://www.mim.org). 
> 
> Also the vacation rental is a real building available to rent in Paradise Valley. You can view the pictures [here](https://www.phoenixvacationrentalhomes.com/house_detail.asp?Details=281&FHouseId=804).
> 
> And if you were wondering, yes Pete does occasionally visit Phoenix to check in on the local soccer team as he does own a stake in Phoenix Rising. Who are the Western Conference Champions of 2018 by the way!
> 
> This wasn't originally going to be a sequel to my previous Christmas fic, but it was really too cute and it fit in the same universe. I hope you enjoy it, and try to forgive any mistakes I literally wrote this in one night.

“This is unbelievable,” said Patrick. He was staring forlornly at the flight board at Sky Harbor. Pete had an arm around his shoulders, trying to comfort him. Patrick didn’t know if he wanted to cuddle closer to his husband or shove him away. Before their eyes, every flight to Chicago changed from “delayed” to “canceled”. 

“What the hell?” Pete said, taking out his phone.

“I told you we should have left yesterday,” Patrick grumbled. 

The PA system came on, and a cool female voice said, “Attention passengers. Due to inclement weather, all flights to O’Hare have been canceled. We apologize for the inconvenience. If you need assistance finding local lodging, please speak with one of our agents at the service desk. If you would like to reschedule your flight, please contact your airline. Thank you.” 

Pete’s jaw dropped and he said, “You’re fucking kidding me!” 

“What the fuck are we going to do?” Patrick asked. “We already checked out of the hotel and with flights canceled we may not be able to get another room!”

“We’ll get another room,” Pete assured him. 

“Maybe we should rent a car,” Patrick muttered. 

Pete shook his head. “No way. Look.” He showed Patrick the news on his phone. The winter storm had frozen the entire Midwest region, it was clear they wouldn’t be able to drive home either. 

He sighed and said, “So we really are stuck here. And Christmas is tomorrow!” Now he wanted to punch Pete. 

For his part, Pete did look sorry. He took Patrick’s hand and squeezed it, saying, “Don’t worry, we can make it special here.” 

“I’m gonna call my mom,” Patrick replied, pulling away from Pete.

“Cool. I’m gonna call around, find us somewhere nice to stay,” Pete said. Patrick could see the hurt look on his face, but he didn’t say anything. He could apologize later when he calmed down. 

Logically, Patrick knew it wasn’t actually Pete’s fault this had happened. The storm had come out of nowhere, and there wouldn’t have been any way they could have known. They originally weren’t going to Phoenix anyway, but they’d had a layover from Los Angeles. They were supposed to stay for a couple hours, however, Pete had begged to remain in Phoenix for one day. He had a last minute meeting with Phoenix Rising team management that he couldn’t miss. He still couldn't understand why Pete would want to sponsor a team in a city he didn't even live in. Reluctantly, Patrick had agreed to remain in the city, and now he wished he hadn’t. 

He called his mother, who was sympathetic and understanding. She assured him they could have Christmas when they got back. Patrick apologized to her profusely, but she wouldn’t hear of it. “I’ll let everyone know you’re delayed. I’m sorry baby, but try to have a good Christmas, okay?” Her cheery tone made him relax. At least she wasn’t mad.

When he returned to Pete, it was to see him with a big grin on his face. 

“What’d you do?” Patrick asked him. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know, as he knew that smile. It was the one that meant Pete was very proud of himself, which could be a good or a bad thing.

“Found us a place. Also, I called a car service, they’re coming to get us,” Pete said to him. “And, I have something special arranged for tomorrow.” 

“It’s not strippers is it?” He asked. 

Pete snorted. “Nah, not after last time. Trust me, you’ll love it.” 

They left the airport, and as promised, a black town car appeared to take them to parts unknown. Patrick stared out the window as the city zoomed by, and he asked, “Where are we going?” 

“Paradise Valley,” Pete told him. “I managed to find a vacation rental. Take a look.” 

He handed his phone to Patrick, who flipped through the pictures. It was a mansion done in the modern style, set against a mountain with a view of a large golf course. It was spacious, and Patrick smiled when he saw a baby grand piano in the living room. 

“Admit it, the piano is why you picked this place,” he said and Pete laughed. 

“Nah, I picked it because it was the only place available that wasn’t a wreck. We got lucky.” 

Pete reached for his hand, and Patrick took it. “I’m sorry for being a jerk, I know this isn’t your fault.” 

“Thank you. I know you didn’t mean it, but it’s nice to hear you say it,” Pete replied. 

They rode the rest of the way in silence. And before Patrick knew it they were pulling into a private driveway with a heavy looking gate. Pete tipped the driver, and they went to the front door. They were greeted by a woman with iron-gray hair, pinched lips, and piercing brown eyes. 

“Good evening, I’m Mrs. Mott. I own this property,” she said with the fakest smile Patrick had ever seen. He couldn’t say he was surprised. She was every inch a proper lady, with stiff posture and an elegant dress. Pete with his yellow cat eye glasses and brown teddy bear coat did not look like the kind of person she’d socialize with. Patrick wasn’t much better in ratty jeans, a stretched out Bowie shirt, and his winter scruff growing in. 

“Hey, thank you so much for this,” Pete said with a smile, extending his hand. 

“We really appreciate it,” Patrick added. 

“Of course. Benjamin,” she said, and a man in a driver’s uniform seemed to appear from nowhere. He handed her a pouch, which she, in turn, gave to Pete. “That’s the gate control, the house keys, and the fob for the security system. We discourage additional guests, so no parties. The cleaning service will arrive on Wednesday, but they have their own key set so you needn’t wait around for them. I’d also appreciate it if you wouldn't leave any… Extra work for them either.” 

She was giving them the stink eye, and Patrick wanted to flip her off. Instead, he jammed his hands into his pockets. Mrs. Mott concluded with, “If you have any questions, please call my office.”

“Where’s a good place to eat around here?” Pete asked. 

She gave him a shrewd look, but said, “I would recommend the Capital Grille.” 

“Thank you,” he replied.

Mrs. Mott turned and walked away. They watched as her driver let her into the car, and they drove off.

“She was nice,” said Pete, and Patrick snorted. 

“Are we going out?” He asked and Pete shook his head. 

“Nah, I think I’d rather order a pizza. Also, that place she recommended is probably full of fancy people like her and I’m not in the mood to be stared at.” 

Patrick bit back a comment about Pete’s clothes, and they went inside. It was a lovely house, very tidy and a lot of open space. They found the master bedroom and ditched their things in there. Then they went back into the living room to kick back for a little while. Pete ordered some pizza on his phone, and Patrick kicked off his shoes.

“It’s too bad it’s a hundred degrees out right now, I’d love to get that fire going,” he said.

“It’s 74 degrees,” Pete said. “We could have a fire.”

“I’m already sweating, I’d rather not make it worse,” Patrick told him, and Pete shrugged. 

“Suit yourself.” He turned on the TV and found one of those house remodeling shows, and they watched until the pizza arrived. 

“Chicago style?” Patrick asked with amusement.

“I wanna see what Phoenix’s take is on Chicago style. I bet it’s just a regular pizza. Or worse, a poor imitation of New York.” 

“Blasphemy.” 

They both laughed and tucked in. True, it was definitely not what they were used to, but it was still pretty good. As they ate, they talked about the house decorating show, and Pete asked, “Do you think we should remodel?” 

“Hell no,” replied Patrick with mock horror. “We’d be at each other’s throats in under a week!” 

“Might be a good idea though,” he said. “I like the open floor plan concept.” 

Patrick shook his head. “I don’t think that’d be a good idea, Pete. Our house isn’t built for that.” 

“Then maybe we should move.” 

He frowned. “What? Why?” 

“It’s a nice neighborhood and all, but the school district isn’t that great,” Pete mumbled, and it started to make sense. 

“I see.” Patrick pulled a bit of mozzarella off his slice and ate it. He then said, “We’d need two offices and a studio, plus the extra bedrooms. And I don’t want to move up into the hills.” 

“I might have a few places,” said Pete, and Patrick laughed. 

“Of course you do.” 

They stayed up late, talking about the sort of place they’d like to move into, and options for having kids. Pete had floated the idea of having his sister be a surrogate using Patrick’s sperm. But the idea made him shudder since Hillary was family. When the clock struck eleven, Pete said, “Oh, shit, we gotta go to bed.”

“Why?” Patrick said. His eyes were itchy and burning, but he wasn’t tired yet. 

“It’s part of tomorrow’s surprise. Come on.” 

Pete shut off the lights, and he and Patrick walked to the back of the house. They undressed and crawled into bed, snuggling close. 

“I love you,” Patrick mumbled, and he could hear Pete smile. 

“I love you too.”

* * *

The next day, Patrick woke up early. He looked out the big bay window and saw the sky was overcast. He was confused for a minute, wondering where he was. Then the previous night came back, and he sighed. Right, they were stuck in Phoenix for Christmas. He was puzzled that he’d woken up alone. Normally Pete would have been watching him sleep or something equally weird. 

“Pete?” He said softly. No answer. 

Patrick got up and pulled on some pajamas, and wandered into the living room. 

Pete was there, watching TV and drinking a cup of coffee. He looked up when he heard Patrick and smiled, saying, “Morning.” 

“Is there more coffee?” Patrick asked.

“Yeah, in the pot. There’s some toast too if you’re hungry.”

Patrick poured himself a cup, got a plate, and then went and sat with Pete on the couch. He was watching the Weather Channel. A very perky woman was smiling at them. She said, “As you can see, Winter Storm Janet has made for a very white, but very severe Christmas!” A map appeared, showing the storm’s path. Patrick chewed his toast and shook his head. He was kind of glad they weren’t in the middle of that.

“Wish it would come down this way,” Pete said. “Doesn’t seem like Christmas with all this sand.” 

Patrick looked out at the mountainside, and privately he agreed with Pete. While the day was gloomy, it was far from the white Christmas they would have had back in Chicago. 

“Yeah well, maybe there’ll be a Christmas miracle. Or global warming,” 

Pete laughed. “We should get going.” 

“Going where?” Patrick asked.

All he got in return was a smirk. 

Patrick finished eating and put the plate in the sink. They got dressed, and there was a car waiting for them outside. Patrick was still confused, but that didn’t last for long. The car passed a building with a sign that said Musical Instrument Museum. 

Patrick gasped. “No.” 

“Yes, they’re open on Christmas,” Pete replied.

Patrick laughed and tackled Pete with a hug, saying, “Oh my God, thank you! Thank you so much!” 

“Knew you’d love it,” he said with a satisfied grin. 

They were dropped off, and Patrick was grinning ear to ear. A girl with dark curly hair and brown eyes was at the desk, and she said, “Hi, welcome to MIM! How can I help you today?” 

“Two tickets please,” Pete replied.

“Would you like to add the Electric Guitar Exhibition to your ticket price? Only seven dollars more,” she said.

“What’s that?” Patrick asked. 

“It’s an exhibit all about the history of the electric guitar. From its invention to its evolution in music,” she replied.

“Oh we gotta see that,” Pete said. 

They purchased their tickets and were given headsets with lanyards to hang players around their necks. The girl told them to hit play in front of any screen, and they’d be able to hear the music. 

“Where should we go first?” 

“You’ll want to start with the guitar exhibit,” she replied, and that was where they went.

They were greeted by a kind looking old lady, who took their tickets and let them pass into the gallery.

“Holy shit,” Patrick murmured. 

“No kidding,” Pete said. 

Patrick held his hand, and they went through each video one by one. Patrick was surprised to discover that amps and electric guitars had been around since the 1920s. “Oh man, could you imagine using that?” He asked, pointing at an amp that looked like a gramophone. 

“Joe would kill you,” Pete replied.

“I’d kill me,” he said and Pete laughed. 

They saw every guitar in the exhibit, including one owned by Pete Townsend. Upon leaving, they found the gallery next door was filled with displays dedicated to various musicians. Patrick was fascinated by a theremin display, but he saw that Pete was entranced by the Johnny Cash presentation. 

He went over just in time to hear what Pete was listening to. It was Cash’s cover of Hurt, a song that had always made Pete emotional. He saw a tear trailing down his cheek, and Patrick put an arm around him. Pete wiped at his face and gave him a watery smile. 

“Let’s go check out the mechanical instruments,” Patrick said, and Pete nodded.

“Now this is more like it,” Pete said as they walked in. There were player pianos, a calliope, and something called an Apollonia which was the size of a trailer. Pete was delighted, and Patrick liked the miniatures with their strange and angelic tunes. One of the artifacts was a horrifying demon clown thing that Pete thought was great, but Patrick found repulsive. Especially as it had a face on the sole of its shoe that stuck out its tongue.

“That thing is hideous,” Patrick said, and Pete snorted. 

“No it isn’t, it’s cool! I want one for the living room,” Pete replied and Patrick laughed. 

“Let’s go upstairs and check out the international instruments.” 

That was where they spent hours. They went through every continent, each with traditional instruments. There were also songs from every country featured. Patrick loved the rhythm from the Oceania countries, while Pete adored the Beijing opera. They both watched the Japanese Noh video, and the Puerto Rico exhibit gave Patrick a few ideas for percussion on their next album. 

“C’mon, let’s check out the land of the free next!” Pete said, pulling Patrick’s arm. 

“Costa Rica?” Patrick asked, and Pete laughed. 

“You're so clever,” Pete retorted, rolling his eyes. “Come on!” 

They went into the US and Canada exhibit. There was a whole section dedicated to Native American music, and another for local schools and bands that had achieved some fame. Pete laughed when he saw the marching band display, and took several pictures and texted them to Mikey. 

“Look, they’ve got ones for individual cities! Let’s find Chicago!” Patrick said, and now he was pulling Pete along. But when they got to the Chicago exhibit, he was disappointed to see only a couple of instruments and not much information at all. 

“Look,” said Pete, pointing at a sign. It said, ‘We are continuing to improve this exhibit.’ “Maybe we should donate some of our gear to them.” 

“Yeah definitely.” 

They went through the rest of Canada, the US, and Europe at a more sedate place. Patrick loved the jazz section, and Pete, of course, was all over the rock and roll display. The whole time, as Patrick became absorbed in the instruments, he had to admire Pete’s ingenuity. This was really the best possible way for them to spend Christmas away from home. 

At lunchtime, they went downstairs to the Cafe Allegro. The menu was limited, so they had chicken and vegetable soup with sandwiches. As Pete finished his iced coffee, he said, “I think we’ve seen everything.” 

“No look,” Patrick replied. He pointed at the museum map. “What’s the Experience Gallery?” 

“That… Is actually a good question. Let’s check that out.” 

It turned out to be right across the hall. There was another elderly woman seated there, and she smiled and said, “Welcome! Here, you’ll be able to try various instruments that we have displayed upstairs.”

“Now **this** is cool!” Pete yelled. 

“Is that a nickelodeon?” Patrick asked, pointing at a large piano in the corner.

“Yes, and for one quarter it will play one song,” she replied.

Pete grinned and rushed over to the nickelodeon, and Patrick said, “Just one, Pete!” 

“You’re no fun,” he pouted but did as Patrick asked.

He was glad it was only the one song, as the machine was horribly loud. But the song was very bouncy, and Pete was laughing and clapping as it played. Patrick chuckled and checked out the other instruments. There were two harps, several acoustic guitars, some banjos, a tambourine, and the biggest gong that Patrick had ever seen. 

Patrick ran his fingers over the harp strings, and he asked Pete, “How hard do you think this would be to learn?” 

“For me? Impossible. For you? Like, a month tops.” Pete then gestured to another corner and said, “But I think this would be more up your alley.” 

It was a theremin like he’d seen in the first gallery. Patrick read the instructions about using his right hand for pitch and his left hand for volume, and improvised. The sounds weren’t great, but he could see how they could be with some modifications. Pete was grinning at him, and Patrick smiled back. 

“I want one,” Patrick said, and Pete nodded. 

“We’ll get you one.”

The old woman said, “They sell them in the gift shop. They’re not cheap though, honey.” 

“I’m sure we can afford it,” Pete replied. “Thank you, ma’am.” 

They left the gallery, though not before Pete went to town on the giant gong. There was indeed a theremin in the gift shop, and Patrick got it. Pete got a t-shirt that said ‘Music Is The Language Of The Soul’ in several languages.

As they were waiting for the car outside, Patrick said, “This was perfect.”

“Yeah, sorry again we got stuck here,” Pete said. 

“It’s not your fault. And even if it was, I forgive you.” Patrick leaned over and kissed him. “I love you.”

“I hope you’re still saying that after you see what I got us for dinner,” Pete said, and Patrick frowned. 

“Why, what did you do?” 

“You’ll see. I think they should be done setting everything up by now,” Pete glanced at his watch.

* * *

It seemed like the trip back took even longer, but when they arrived Patrick smiled. The house had been decorated with white lights, and there was indeed a feast laid out on the table. Everything was under warming domes, and Patrick kissed Pete’s cheek. 

They removed the domes, and there was a large spread. “Where did you get this?” Patrick asked. 

“Cracker Barrel,” Pete said with a shrug. “They were open and I love their green beans.” 

“I can’t believe you organized all of this in such a short amount of time.” Patrick began carving the turkey, while Pete was plating up the sides. 

“I used to be our manager, how does that surprise you?” 

Patrick had to admit he had a point. 

After a delicious dinner, they settled in the living room again. “This has been such a magical day,” Patrick said. “Is there anything I can do for you?” 

“Sing for me?” Pete asked, and Patrick grinned. 

“I can do that.” 

Pete got a fire going, and Patrick sat at the piano. He thought for a moment and decided to play something new for him. 

“This is a work in progress,” Patrick warned him, which made Pete sit up. 

“New stuff?” He said with glee, and Patrick nodded. 

He started playing and lost himself in the music for a while. He was so inspired by everything he’d seen that day and Pete’s generosity. That it actually had been a beautiful day and one of the best Christmases they’d had since they got married. 

Patrick felt Pete sit next to him, and an arm snake around his shoulders. He stopped playing and turned just in time for Pete to kiss him. Patrick closed his eyes and kissed Pete back with tenderness. His heart was so full of love, and he poured all of that into the kiss.

Pete pulled back with a gasp, saying, “Let’s go to the bedroom.” 

“No,” Patrick replied. “By the fire.” 

Pete grinned and said, “Hell yeah.” 

They settled on the carpet, pushing the coffee table and some of the chairs out of the way. Pete was on his back, Patrick on top of him, and they were grinding against each other. Patrick was hard already, and he could feel that Pete was getting there. Pete was writhing beneath him, and he gasped, “Could come like this.” 

“Don’t yet, I wanna suck you,” said Patrick. He pulled Pete’s shirt off, running his hands over his chest. Pete’s eyelids fluttered, then his eyes closed. He relaxed as Patrick opened his pants. He stroked Pete’s cock and relished in his responding moan. Patrick smirked and wrapped his mouth around the head.

Pete’s hips jolted, and Patrick pinned him down. He sucked hard and fast, working Pete’s shaft with his tongue and his hand. Pete’s fingers sank into his hair, and Patrick sucked harder. He loved the tang of salt on his tongue, the taste of Pete as intoxicating as ever. There was a pain as Pete pulled his hair, and he groaned as Pete came in his mouth. 

Patrick swallowed it down and pulled away. Pete was breathing hard, and he said, “I love you.” 

“Love you too,” Patrick said.

Pete was on him, kissing him hard. Patrick groaned, thrilled that Pete was tasting himself in Patrick’s mouth. Pete’s hands were under Patrick’s shirt, one slipping past the waistband of his jeans. His hand gripped Patrick’s cock, and Pete asked, “Want me to return the favor?”

“Just your hand,” Patrick gasped. 

Pete nodded, and was jerking him fast, but with a light and delicate touch. Patrick was staring into Pete’s eyes, feeling as though he could drown in their amber depths. Pete kissed him again, his hand moving faster and making Patrick cry out. He was squirming himself now and panting into Pete’s shoulder. 

“So good,” Patrick hissed and bit Pete’s neck.

“Oh fuck, you’re gonna make me hard again. Come on baby, come for me,” Pete replied, and Patrick’s back arched as he came in Pete’s hand. 

Pete pulled his hand out of Patrick’s pants, licking the sticky mess from his fingers. “You still taste amazing.” 

“You’re not so bad yourself.” Patrick giggled. “You know, for what was originally an inconvenience, this has turned out to be an amazing Christmas. And it’s all because of you. Thank you, Pete.” 

“You’re welcome,” Pete replied and pulled Patrick close. And they fell asleep there by the fire. 

The End.

**Author's Note:**

> Check out my [Tumblr](http://talkingcinemalight.tumblr.com/) and happy holidays!


End file.
